


Cut Off

by andrea_deer



Series: Kissing Meme [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dangerous Situation, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Relationship, Kissing Meme, M/M, Sherlock Being Sherlock, mycroft is in danger but he comes out fine no worries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8490961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrea_deer/pseuds/andrea_deer
Summary: Kissing meme: 02) Painful kiss - Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade for agent-elaine @ tumblr.     "You're getting full of yourself again; you're not our queen."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, great thanks got to amazing [undun](http://archiveofourown.org/users/undun/pseuds/undun) for first rate beta work! Thank you so much for all your help! :) (All remaining mistakes are mine.)

Usually Mycroft was able to stay in control of things without as much as moving from his home office. The access he was allowed on his computer and phone meant he could almost see all and hear all, not to mention react directly to any specific threat or situation.

 

With so much technology within his reach Mycroft sometimes forgot the main weakness of such power - how quickly one got used to having it.

 

When all of the electronics were shut down, while the safety locks were activated, he was cut off from his team and Gregory, while also being effectively trapped in his own house. His enemies were determined to prove that his castle, his metaphorical ivory tower from which he ruled, could just as well be a prison. And it seemed they were succeeding. He felt blind and deaf, and for a moment of panic, completely powerless.

 

"Get a grip on yourself," Sherlock mocked.

 

Not actual Sherlock, who was still running around London with Greg, trying to catch the leader of the group that had chosen to attack them. It had taken them weeks to finally figure out their leadership despite group's careful attempts at pretending there was none. That the whole organisation was united and equal, attacking like a hoard or like a swarm of bees. However, there was always a queen and Sherlock and Greg, along with Mycroft's people and the police were working to take them down. All of whom were very likely completely unaware that the organisation aimed for a similar attack at the exact same time.

 

"You're getting full of yourself again; you're not our queen."

 

"Well, in this sense of a metaphor, I most certainly am."

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I didn't vote for you," he replied, pacing around the room and once again proving he is just a figment of Mycroft's imagination, since such pop-culture-based jokes were far beyond the real Sherlock.

 

This was just a tool of Mycroft's own mind to get a rise out of him and get him to work.

 

"Yes, that's the general idea."

 

"I hardly can do anything when cut off from the world!"

 

"And you're under the impression they locked you in here for the sake of it?"

 

Mycroft frowned. They weren't planning to catch him. Cutting him off certainly made them weaker, but surely the efforts put into it would not be equal to their profits. His role in the apprehension of the organisation was mostly done for.

 

"Mycroft, you know how one forces the bees to be less aggressive, don't you?"

 

Mycroft swallowed, nervously, before automatically trying to carefully calm his breathing, while at the same time aiming to detect the slightest hint of smoke in the air.

 

"With smoke," he replied hollowly.

 

"Precisely. And whether they will take this approach or not, just in case, I would suggest you get out."

 

Mycroft nodded, his mind already switching gears into a problem solving mode, coming up with various plans and dismissing them straight away, sometimes with Sherlock's commentary. He was calm now; he had a focus point once again and he lost himself in it like in a string of data until he came out with a solution that worked.

 

In the end he watched the flames overpower the structure of his house from the relatively safe distance of the footpath outside. Various onlookers stopped by, whilst his own team surrounded him, looking rattled by the fact that they were cut off from the person they'd been supposed to guard.

 

Mycroft watched it dispassionately, trying not to think about how tedious the clean-up will be and appreciating the fact he could just hire someone to deal with most of it. He only reacted, when he heard screeching of tyres, a car door slamming, and a desperate voice calling his name.

 

He turned around in time to meet Greg, who practically run into him, grabbing Mycroft by the arms and watching him over carefully to check for injuries.

 

"I am perfectly fine, Gregory."

 

The policeman nodded, obviously relieved and Mycroft was about to ask about his own injuries, seeing the blood on his split lip and darkening black eye right under another blood streak, but as he opened his mouth to question the injuries, Greg moved in for a kiss and would not be deterred.

 

Mycroft held on to the man, understanding and sharing Greg's desperation, even if for the moment Mycroft had managed to gather control over his.

 

He could hear Sherlock groaning in disgust in the background and was pretty certain it was the real one this time. Certainly he was fine as well. He let himself get lost in the desperate kiss for a moment, before Gregory winced and reluctantly pulled away.

 

"Ouch," he said sheepishly, giving Mycroft a small grin with bloodied teeth as the wound on his mouth started seeping again.

 

"You need a doctor," stated Mycroft firmly and for once Greg did not argue.

 

"Yeah," he sighed. "Probably. You need an estate agent."

 

Mycroft nodded, looking back at the flames.

 

"This could have been worse."

 

Greg's arms tightened around him briefly.

 

"Yeah. It could.”


End file.
